Sunday, March 1, 2015

Tikal and Varying Degrees of "Lost"

We decided it would
be “neat” to camp within the park boundary of Tikal. That was a “we”
until we rode past wildlife signs, that included a snake. I no longer
thought it was as neat, but was excited to fall asleep to the sounds of
the jungle… which again included howler monkeys which one could easily
mistake for jaguars roaring.

Exploring
Tikal the next morning was beautiful and somewhat exhausting as it is a
massive site with trails connecting several different temple/pyramid
complexes that are scattered throughout the forest.

Long hikes up these magnificent pyramids yielded views of the tops of other pyramids, scattered throughout the jungle of Tikal.

We
left Tikal at mid-day, figuring it was unlikely, but not impossible
that we could cover the 300ish kilometers to Semuc Champey by nightfall.

Roadside entertainment

It became apparent that we were riding around on water-filling day... no running water means these barrels are filled regularly to supply households with their water for the week.

HAH.

First,
we made it out of Tikal, then to the turn-off for Flores and then went
the wrong direction out of Flores and wound up on the North end of the
lake. By the time we made it back to Flores and were onto the correct
road, the sun was beginning to dip. Roel found a town on the map that
looked large enough to have a hotel and it would be only 13 kilometers
after another smaller but notable town.

After seeing all of the still un-excavated pyramids at Tikal, I can't help but wonder if every mound we ride by is a pyramid waiting to be discovered. After
said smaller-but-notable town, there was a sign pointing for the town
we needed to head towards (Sayaxche), straight ahead. Well there was a
small road with houses straight ahead, but it appeared to be a dead-end
as there was a truck across the road and after the truck, the road
disappeared into a gully. So we headed straight (and slightly to the
right).

Within 13 kilometers, there was a sizable town but there
were no hotels, and not surprisingly, no sign saying the name of the
town. But we assumed it was the one Roel had noted on the map.

Ugh, no bueno.

And
within 20 kilometers, the road had turned to dirt. Not nice dirt…
really, just a never-ending string of potholes. We stopped at one farm
and asked how much farther Sayaxche was. They were completely confused
by me. I figured I was just pronouncing the name wrong. I mean really,
how are you supposed to pronounce that?

By kilometer 35, the sun
had set, and we found a Comedor next to the road, run by two women and
their three children. I asked if we ate there if it would be possible to
camp in their backyard. As astute business women, they welcomed us to
camp and served us simple, but delicious, bowls of vegetable soup.

We
paid 80 quetzals (about USD 12) for “everything” which was probably a
killing for them… for us, it was just a relief to have a place to stay
for the night.

A relief, for a little while, anyway.

One
of the women was fairly interested in motorcycles and came over to have
a look at the map of Guatemala that we were studying. I asked how much
farther the road was unpaved for, and she paused, gave me a strange look
and then asked where exactly we wanted to go. Semuc Champey. Another
strange look and then she pointed down the road and told us that was
where the Mexican border was.

NOOOOOOOOO!!!

We were camped
along the road going to the Mexican border… no idea how close, and
frankly, no idea why there was such heavy traffic that seemed to only
get heaver as the night went on. And really, we didn’t want to find out.

I asked to use the “bano” and was led back to an area behind
the kitchen (which, by the way, only featured a grill over the embers of
a few logs). Our hostess pointed to a large basin of water and welcomed
me to use it. I then said, “no, yo nessicito el bano” which elicited a
very confused look from her. At which point I realized that I actually
have no idea what the word for toilet is in Spanish. So, what’s a girl
gonna do but mime using a toilet.

Understanding dawned on her
and after I was told to wait, she led me into the house and to a small
bathroom in the back. The shower consisted of a 1” PVC pipe running out
of the wall, leaking water, a toilet with no flushing mechanism attached
and a string sitting at the bottom of a tank that there was no way I
was reaching in to grab, and a sink that had not seen running water…
ever.

Hello, Dorothy? You’re not in Kansas (or Mexico, or the US, or Canada) anymore.

It was a good wake-up and I felt like an a$$.

We
went to sleep to the sounds of one of the waitresses employing corporal
punishment on her crying 3 year old and eventually were awoken by the
noise of two trucks coming to a screeching halt right next to our tent
which was set up under the roof of the restaurant (because our hostesses
were worried about us getting rained on). I’ll admit that I was a
little nervous about their sudden and unexplained arrival in the middle
of the night until we realized that one of them was having mechanical
difficulties and they’d both decided to stop somewhere “populated” to
rest and sort out the problem. Sleep was elusive, but that’s just how
the cookie crumbles sometimes.